Song
by Suuri Illusioni
Summary: It’s been four years now, for four years you have been gone. It was at the beginning of the war.. Mentions of slash and character deaths.


**Author: **Who-Am-I-0-0 (or Suuri Illusioni, whatever…)

**Title: **Song

**Author's Note: **Not an update, just correcting some typos I found…

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. That means: Not mine. The poem, _Song_ by WH Auden doesn't belong to me either.

**Warning:** Contains mentions of slash and character deaths. Not your cup of tea? Shoo!

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It's been four years now, for four years you have been gone. It was at the beginning of the war; you didn't have to see the world as you knew it crumble and fall, you didn't have to watch your friends and those you considered as family die. You were spared of all that misery. Still I wish you had been there, selfishly I wish you had been there to help me bear this burden of all the innocents whose death I caused.

I can almost hear you say that it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't have saved all of them. But it was my fault, there must have been something I could have done, something I missed. I could have saved you.

Oh how I miss your soothing words, your soft voice telling me it's all right. I miss your kisses, passionate, sometimes soft, sometimes so rough that it almost hurt, almost but never quite. I miss you in me, thrusting and filling me like no-one else could, how I for a moment felt whole. Oh Merlin and all the gods above, I miss everything about you.

When you refused the Dark Mark, you knew you could become a target. Your father could have accepted that, could have hidden you, his precious heir, from Voldemort. He could even have tolerated your _preferences_, like he called it, but your choice of lovers was the final straw. When he found out about us, I don't even today know how, you were certain that it wouldn't be long before he would come for you.

Soon you started collecting a list of things you wanted to do before you died. That was so very muggle of you. I'm fairly sure you wouldn't have forgiven me had I told you that. Even then you despised muggles and all things muggle.

Most of the things in your little list included me. You didn't have the time to carry out almost any of them. Exactly four years ago, on your eighteenth birthday they came. I wasn't there that day. I was in Hogsmead, running some meaningless errand. If I only had been there…

_Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,  
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come._

_Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead  
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,  
put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,  
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves._

I really haven't been thinking of you, I have blocked you and all the memories out, I had forbidden myself thinking of you, I didn't have the time to mourn. I hadn't shed a tear for you, in four years not a single tear. I couldn't, I had to stay strong, my little world (I can imagine you reproaching me for calling you, my world, little) had shattered to pieces but for everyone else's sake I couldn't falter. I couldn't cry, I wasn't able to cry for you or for anyone else. I had a task to finish, a prophecy to fulfil.

This morning I found a muggle poem, _Song_ it was called, I think. I'm sure you would have liked it, as muggle as it is, you always had a thing for melancholy. I started thinking of you and for the first time in over four years I cried, Draco, I really cried. I cried for every deceased, but most of all, I cried for you.

So after your death, how harsh it sounds now that I finally say it out loud, I blocked all my emotions, became numb to everything but the ongoing war. My only purpose was to kill Voldemort; it was all I had left. Losing wasn't an option, that much I owed to everyone, to Cedric, to Sirius, to you.

_He was my North, my South, my East and West,  
My working week and my Sunday rest,  
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song  
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong_

But it's all over now. The war has been over for two months. Now it is time to rebuild the wizarding world. The dead have been buried, it is time to focus on the living. The healing process is truly amazing, the world has lost an important part of it, people mourn for a time, are cripple for a while and slowly but surely start to recover and function again. The war becomes just bad memories and as time goes by will cease to be just history, the kind professor Binns teaches.

I have nothing to rebuild, no-one to focus on, no reason to heal. Even after you died I had a purpose, now I have nothing. My sole purpose is gone, I have killed Voldemort. It is done. I did what was asked of me, I ended the war, I attended all the funerals, comforted the mourners, was a shoulder to cry on. I held Hermione's hand when she cried the death Ron, but I myself couldn't cry, didn't know how to mourn and he was my best friend, for Merlin's sake! There's nothing for me here anymore, nothing they can ask of me, I have saved their world after all.

After reading the poem it all makes sense again. Since there's nothing for me here, I know what is to be done. Hermione might miss me, but she'll get over it, what's one more loss after so many? Now that I've completed my task, I can follow you. It will be wonderful to see you again, Draco my love. Oh how I have missed you!

_The stars are not wanted now, put out every one,  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;  
For nothing now can ever come to any good._


End file.
